About a woman who’d meant enough to Stack that he now hated his brother-in-law? She winced. “Yes?”
As if that somehow pleased him, Stack gave her a lingering look filled with heat—then turned his attention to Phil.
“C’mon, man.” Phil turned his face to the side, trying to dodge the brunt of Stack’s deadly glare. “You know she didn’t matter to you.”
“Not much, you’re right about that. But how I felt about her doesn’t excuse what you did. And the fact you’re married to my sister does matter because I care about her, a lot.”
“Tabby loves me.”
“Tabby is delusional, but she’s also an adult, so her decisions are her own. Fact remains, if you ever hurt her, I’ll take you apart and enjoy doing it.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“You’re a liar, a pothead and a cheat. You hurt her just by existing.”
Ouch, Vanity thought. That was brutal.
“I haven’t cheated,” Phil said, not bothering to deny the rest. “And everyone smokes—”
Bouncing his skull against the wall effectively cut off Phil’s confession. Stack crowded in. “I don’t believe a damn thing you say, so save it. If you’re smart, if you want me to keep ignoring you, I suggest you find a job, give up the dope that you fucking well can’t afford, and start giving my sister a little help. And that,” he emphasized, “is the last warning I’m giving you.”
“I’ve tried! Jobs are scarce, man. I’m not a hotshot fighter like you. I—”
“Take off,” Stack told him. “I don’t want to see you again today. And, trust me, you don’t want to see me either.”
“But Tabby—”
Anxious to end the contretemps, Vanity said, “I’ll tell her you had to go. No worries!”
Leaving Phil to slump against the wall, Stack held out a hand to Vanity. Why the gesture felt so significant, she couldn’t say, but she hustled to accept, to lace her fingers through his. His hand engulfed hers. Gently. Securely.
For a double heartbeat, Stack just stared down at her. Then, taking her by surprise, he brushed his mouth to hers. “C’mon, troublemaker.”
He said it affectionately, but still, she had to protest. “You’re accusing me?”
Stack snorted. “It’s too late to act all innocent now.”
Okay, so, yes, she’d deliberately provoked him in front of his mother and sister. And she had teased—with the truth!—about the hunks at the rec center. She considered debating it when, as they exited the room, Phil muttered low behind them, “Asshole.”
Vanity’s eyes flared, and she held her breath, but other than Stack smirking, nothing happened.
Relieved that he didn’t turn back around and annihilate the man, Vanity again leaned on his shoulder. She adored all of Stack, but, wow, his shoulders were especially nice. Perfect, in fact. He was so big and strong and tall, she knew leaning on him would never be a problem. It was a wonderful feeling, and she hugged herself to his biceps.
Still walking, Stack slanted his gaze down at her. “You are the oddest woman.”
“Hey.” That wasn’t even close to a compliment.
“It’s true.” He kissed her forehead. “I expected that whole scene to upset you.”
“Naw. Clearly you had it under control. And clearly f’ing Phil is a problem.”
He snorted. “That’s it, huh? All you’re going to say or do?”
“Well, what should I be doing? Crying? Fretting? You’re not, so why would I?”
“Cry, no.” He gave her a look. “But you know you’re dying to pry.”
“Mmm...maybe.” She couldn’t wait to get him back out of the damned dress shirt and pants. She wanted to glide her hands over all that sleek skin taut over pronounced muscles, to feel the roughness of his body hair on her palms, to touch him and kiss him everywhere. “I figured I’d wait for a moment of weakness. Better odds of getting the truth from you that way.”
Gently, he warned, “I don’t lie, Vanity.”
The way he said that gave her pause. Inching into unknown territory, she asked mildly, “The truth is important to you?”
His gaze sharpened. “Very important. I don’t tolerate lies.”
Had he been the victim of untruths before? Seemed likely, which meant her methods might enrage him, even possibly alienate him. With uncertainty denting her confidence, she chose to watch her feet instead of his face. “What about lies of omission?”
As if that somehow pleased him, Stack gave her a lingering look filled with heat—then turned his attention to Phil.
“C’mon, man.” Phil turned his face to the side, trying to dodge the brunt of Stack’s deadly glare. “You know she didn’t matter to you.”
“Not much, you’re right about that. But how I felt about her doesn’t excuse what you did. And the fact you’re married to my sister does matter because I care about her, a lot.”
“Tabby loves me.”
“Tabby is delusional, but she’s also an adult, so her decisions are her own. Fact remains, if you ever hurt her, I’ll take you apart and enjoy doing it.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“You’re a liar, a pothead and a cheat. You hurt her just by existing.”
Ouch, Vanity thought. That was brutal.
“I haven’t cheated,” Phil said, not bothering to deny the rest. “And everyone smokes—”
Bouncing his skull against the wall effectively cut off Phil’s confession. Stack crowded in. “I don’t believe a damn thing you say, so save it. If you’re smart, if you want me to keep ignoring you, I suggest you find a job, give up the dope that you fucking well can’t afford, and start giving my sister a little help. And that,” he emphasized, “is the last warning I’m giving you.”
“I’ve tried! Jobs are scarce, man. I’m not a hotshot fighter like you. I—”
“Take off,” Stack told him. “I don’t want to see you again today. And, trust me, you don’t want to see me either.”
“But Tabby—”
Anxious to end the contretemps, Vanity said, “I’ll tell her you had to go. No worries!”
Leaving Phil to slump against the wall, Stack held out a hand to Vanity. Why the gesture felt so significant, she couldn’t say, but she hustled to accept, to lace her fingers through his. His hand engulfed hers. Gently. Securely.
For a double heartbeat, Stack just stared down at her. Then, taking her by surprise, he brushed his mouth to hers. “C’mon, troublemaker.”
He said it affectionately, but still, she had to protest. “You’re accusing me?”
Stack snorted. “It’s too late to act all innocent now.”
Okay, so, yes, she’d deliberately provoked him in front of his mother and sister. And she had teased—with the truth!—about the hunks at the rec center. She considered debating it when, as they exited the room, Phil muttered low behind them, “Asshole.”
Vanity’s eyes flared, and she held her breath, but other than Stack smirking, nothing happened.
Relieved that he didn’t turn back around and annihilate the man, Vanity again leaned on his shoulder. She adored all of Stack, but, wow, his shoulders were especially nice. Perfect, in fact. He was so big and strong and tall, she knew leaning on him would never be a problem. It was a wonderful feeling, and she hugged herself to his biceps.
Still walking, Stack slanted his gaze down at her. “You are the oddest woman.”
“Hey.” That wasn’t even close to a compliment.
“It’s true.” He kissed her forehead. “I expected that whole scene to upset you.”
“Naw. Clearly you had it under control. And clearly f’ing Phil is a problem.”
He snorted. “That’s it, huh? All you’re going to say or do?”
“Well, what should I be doing? Crying? Fretting? You’re not, so why would I?”
“Cry, no.” He gave her a look. “But you know you’re dying to pry.”
“Mmm...maybe.” She couldn’t wait to get him back out of the damned dress shirt and pants. She wanted to glide her hands over all that sleek skin taut over pronounced muscles, to feel the roughness of his body hair on her palms, to touch him and kiss him everywhere. “I figured I’d wait for a moment of weakness. Better odds of getting the truth from you that way.”
Gently, he warned, “I don’t lie, Vanity.”
The way he said that gave her pause. Inching into unknown territory, she asked mildly, “The truth is important to you?”
His gaze sharpened. “Very important. I don’t tolerate lies.”
Had he been the victim of untruths before? Seemed likely, which meant her methods might enrage him, even possibly alienate him. With uncertainty denting her confidence, she chose to watch her feet instead of his face. “What about lies of omission?”
